Chapter 16
BEFORE YOU BECAME A PSYCHOPATH
Lexi
“Get the fuck off me.” I shoved against Killian’s chest, but damn he’d gotten strong since we were kids.
His shirt sleeve rode up, finally giving me a good look at that tattoo on his arm.
A snake wrapped around a dagger. Something about it sent a chill up my spine.
I shuddered and his piercing emerald eyes drilled into me, a mix of fury and something else, something raw and much more dangerous.
His hips bored down, and his erection brushed my lower belly.
What the actual fuck?
“Killian!”
A sinister smile curled his lips as he pinned me to the mattress. Darkness edged into the corners of my vision as that sweet scent of cigar and scotch invaded my senses. Fear lanced through my chest, and I couldn’t drag in enough air.
Not again. Not like this.
It had taken me years of therapy to allow anyone in this position of power without a major meltdown. I was always on top. It was the only way I felt safe.
I drew in a breath, stilling my racing pulse.
“What’s the matter, Red? I thought you liked this game.”
“That was before you became a psychopath,” I spat.
For a second, he went still.
Tears burned my eyes, and my throat tightened.
Killian’s chest expanded, his haggard breaths pressing me deeper into the mattress.
I blinked quickly, chasing away the panic.
Fear is just a mental response to an outside stimulus.
I repeated the phrase over and over again until the steel bands around my chest loosened.
I would not let him see me lose control.
“I see you’re following in your stepfather’s footsteps,” I hissed.
His entire body stiffened. Then, his eyes widened, that mouth curving into a capital O. “No,” he growled. “That’s bullshit. And you know it.”
Drawing from my newfound strength, I slipped my hands under Kill’s shirt and dug my nails into his skin. Another trick I often used when we were young, only back then I never intended to draw blood. Today, all bets were off.
“Ow! Son of a bitch!”
I raked my nails down his chest, digging deeper until his breath hissed between his teeth.
He sprang up, and my hands dropped to my sides, blood still smeared beneath my nails.
Standing at the foot of his bed, eyes filled with rage, I could clearly make out the outline of his cock through his jeans.
I turned him on? This shit turned him on?
Adjusting my top, I pushed myself up, slid off the bed, and glared at him. “What the hell happened to you, Killian?” A tremor laced my tone, despite my best efforts. The man before me was nothing like my best friend. My Killian would never be so cruel, so hateful.
“You happened, Lexi.”
“Me?” I cried.
“Yes, you! You were jealous that I was finally going to have a better life, that I was getting out of that shithole house my dad left us. So you made up some bullshit story about my stepdad–”
A shrill voice cut him off mid-sentence, and he let out a string of curses. A second later, the door whipped open, and that Lorelei girl filled the doorway with his roommate at her designer heels.
“I told you he was busy,” the big guy grumbled.
The blonde’s murderous glare bounced between Killian and me, the slutty French maid outfit, and then dropped down to my former best friend’s tented crotch. Something like hurt flashed across her pouty lips.
“Seriously, Killian?” she squeaked. “The charity case?”
I almost felt bad for her.
“This doesn’t concern you, Lorelei. I’ve told you, and I’ll say it again for the hundredth time, you and I are not together.”
“That’s not what you said the other night when you shoved your cock down my throat.”
So gross. My stomach revolted at the vivid visual my sick mind conjured up.
Axel, I thought his name was, chuckled, as heat burned up my cheeks.
I needed to get the hell out of here. For multiple reasons.
I still had no idea who that Bass guy was who I’d overheard that night, and I had every intention of staying far the fuck away from him.
Icy tingles crawled at my arms at the memory of that voice.
Shaking my head out, I tried to weave past the tall blonde, but Killian’s hand snaked around my forearm.
“I’m not done with you, Red.”
“Well, I’m done with you, asshole.”
Axel let out a low whistle, and something like a gasp escaped Lorelei’s pretty pink lips. Killian jerked me against his stupidly hard chest, and my gaze landed on the traces of blood my nails had drawn now spotting his preppy polo. A grin split my lips despite the feral beast towering over me.
“We’re done when I say we are.” He leaned in, dropping his voice to a sinister whisper. “Or I’ll make Micah my personal bitch. Is that what you want?”
“No,” I gritted out, just as he knew I would. I tried to wriggle out of his hold, but the more I struggled the more his arm tightened around my waist.
Lorelei pushed her way between us, placing her perfectly manicured hand on Killian’s chest. “Don’t let her rile you up, baby, she’s trash.”
“I’d rather be trash than a Davenport whore.” I tossed her a sweet smile.
Something dangerous flashed in Killian’s eyes.
Lorelei’s hand shot out, but before her palm made contact with my cheek, Killian’s fingers closed around her wrist. “Don’t fucking touch her.
” His voice was pure steel. “This has nothing to do with you, Lorelei. If you can’t deal with our arrangement without acting like some jealous girlfriend, then it’s over. For good.”
Those big stupid doe eyes widened, and she stuck out her bottom lip. “Don’t be so dramatic, Killian. I was just trying to protect you.”
“She’s mine to deal with. Got it? No one talks to her, no one looks at her, and most importantly, no one touches her but me.” For a second, Killian looked surprised, like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud. Then his dark gaze slid to his frat brother. “Spread the word to the others.”
“Will do, Kill.”
He blew out a frustrated breath and dragged his hand through his dark hair. “Now both of you, get the fuck out of my room.”
A mischievous smile crossed the big jock’s face. “Technically, it’s my room too.”
“Not for the next hour. It’s getting serviced by our new housemaid.”
Lorelei’s smile stretched from ear to ear, and my fingers curled into tight fists at my sides.
There was no way I’d survive an extended period of servitude under Killian’s hand.
Maybe everyone was right, and I didn’t belong here.
I couldn’t afford fancy trips, and there was no way I’d be trading money in exchange for this shit.
But I sure as hell wasn’t letting Killian Davenport chase me away either.
Axel squeezed his roommate’s shoulder and muttered under his breath. “I hope you get serviced too. You need some ass to take the edge off, dude.”
“I heard that,” I hissed. “And I’m not some sort of sex slave.”
Killian’s gaze caught mine, and a wicked gleam darkened his eyes. The corners of his lips curled, and damn my traitorous body, but moisture pooled between my legs. I squeezed my thighs together to stifle the building heat. What the hell was that about?
The door slammed shut, jerking my thoughts away from the lusty spiral. God, what is wrong with me? I hated Killian. Even when we were best friends, I’d never been attracted to him. Not really.
“Make the bed,” Killian barked and pointed at the newly slightly ruffled comforter.
“It is made.”
“I don’t like the creases.”
Oh my gawd, this was going to be hell. I bent over the bed and ran my hand over the navy blue comforter until it was pristine. Then I spun around and my nose nearly brushed Killian’s. When had he gotten so close?
“Now what?” I forced out.
He loomed over me, a slight part to his lips. He slid his tongue out and dragged it over his bottom one. God, why did that look so damn good on him?
“How long do I have to be here?” Crossing my arms over my chest, I tried again since he seemed to be too fixated on my mouth to answer my first question. “I have class in an hour, and your side of the room is practically spotless.”
His eyes narrowed as he regarded me, those brilliant green irises fixed on mine as if they could somehow rip the truth from my soul.
No one had ever hurt me the way Killian had all those years ago.
He knew every dark, broken part of me, and when I’d needed him most, he’d betrayed me in the worst way.
His head dipped forward, and for an instant, the darkness cleared. The angry twist of his lips melted away, and in that second, he looked just like my Killian. I leaned into him, desperate for the warmth of his touch. My body recognized every inch of his, even after all this time. I hated that.
Those familiar eyes bored into me and for just a heartbeat, the last three years vanished.
My brain screamed at me to shove him back, but instead, I held my breath, his lips a whisper away.
“Fuck it.” Killian’s mouth captured mine, swallowing up a gasp.
My brain said no, screamed at me to shove him off, but my stupid body needed him like my lungs needed air to breathe.
Our tongues tangled, and there was something so familiar about his taste, the desperate gnashing of our teeth and lips.
Killian had kissed me exactly one time when we were in high school.
It was on a dare from one of his idiot friends. It had been nothing like this.
This was divine torture.
His hand slid to the back of my neck, his fingers fisting around my hair until he angled my head exactly how he wanted to devour me. Fuck, Cordi had been right. Killian was good at this. If he kissed like this, I couldn’t imagine—
No! What the hell is wrong with you, Lexi?
I ripped my mouth free of his and shoved him back. A tangle of emotions battled it out in my chest; lust, fury and confusion, like a whirling tornado. Kill’s eyes chased to mine, and I could see the same emotions mirrored in his fiery gaze.
He loosed a breath and took another step back on his own, putting some much needed space between us.
“You can do the laundry,” he gritted out.
His voice sounded rough, like the words scraped his throat on the way out.
And that jagged tone sent a perverse amount of pleasure racing through me.
He spun around and marched to his closet, revealing a wicker hamper.
“And take this too.” He tugged at the hem of his shirt, pulling it up over his torso.
“Make sure you get out the blood and the stink of your cheap ass perfume.”
Ignoring the sting of his angry words, my eyes were glued to his carved abs, revealing row after row of sculpted perfection beneath a swirl of ink. He tossed me the polo, and I let it fall to the floor, much too focused on the massive tattoo that covered his chest.
A bruised and battered crimson heart sat in the center, thick iron chains coiled around the disturbingly lifelike drawing.
My stomach dropped. My heart kicked at my ribs, and I swallowed hard.
No, no, it couldn’t be.
I’d seen that tattoo before...
That chained heart.
The masked guy at the party.
My throat went dry.
“It was you?” I rasped out.